“Got to be honest, this isn’t what I expected for the Ember’s shrine,” Nexin said. It’d taken them all the way into the afternoon for some of the inland fog to burn off enough to really search the city. And what’d they found? The Ember’s shrine in probably the most run-down corner of the city. Fishing shacks crowded next to an off-shoot dock that had half-rotted and fallen into the water. And in between all of that, hidden behind piled traps, the small shrine. “Are you sure this is it?”

  “Can’t you feel it?” Sol asked, standing beside Nexin, but inspecting one of the traps by gently poking it.

  “I… guess so. I just… it’s not like I worship the Pyre or anything, but this feels kind of insulting,” Nexin said.

  “The Vestish haven’t worshipped it for a long time either.” Sol pulled half an old shell out of the cage, brought it closer to his face to inspect it, then recoiled from the smell. “As I mentioned, this city started out as a fishing port. Back then, this would’ve been the center of their little village. As they moved away from that and focused more on academia, the city physically moved as well.

  “Then, I can only assume that after Pycrin stole their Ember, they saw no need to move the shrine,” Sol finished.

  “How long between us taking the Ember and your storm?”

  “Almost fifty years.”

  “And all we have to do is put it back on the shrine?”

  “Correct. The shrine itself will protect—and more importantly, bind—the Ember to it.”

  “You know, I’ve been wondering about that. If the shrine binds the Ember to it, how come we were able to take them all?” Nexin asked.

  “Because the Embers were awake then,” Sol said. “They wanted to be taken. Now, though? My goddess has put them back to sleep for the next century. They still possess the Pyre’s power, but not His will. The small metal bowl on top of the shrine is really the only important part, originally crafted by my goddess to contain the Pyre’s fragments. An enchantment on there will keep the Ember safe.”

  “So, one of those little wolves couldn’t come along and steal the Ember when we aren’t looking?”

  Sol shook his head. “Even you wouldn’t be strong enough to forcefully remove the Ember after we put it back in its proper place.”

  “Good. Something about this empty city is making the hair on the back of my neck stand up,” Nexin said, turning to look back into the still-foggy city. While most of the mist had burned off, the streets were shrouded only a few blocks away, and the bay remained completely blanketed.

  “You needn’t worry; the Ember will be secure here.”

  “We still have almost a week before El comes to pick us up. I plan on using most of that time trying to figure out what happened here. And to see if there are signs of any survivors. The whole population can’t have completely vanished without a trace,” Nexin said.

  “The Vestish magic was one of travel as well. I’d hoped to find some who would be willing to help us return the other Embers,” Sol said.

  “Travel? Like flying? And, I thought they were focused on learning?” Nexin said, racking his brain for information on the Vestish magic. No, oddly, he hadn’t read anything on the topic in the reports.

  “They couldn’t fly,” Sol said. “More… their magic allowed each of their steps to carry them many, many times further then a normal step.”

  “How much further?”

  “In some cases, miles,” Sol said. “The strongest could even bring others with them or cross bodies of water.”

  Nexin nodded. “That would be very useful.”

  “It was how they were able to bring together so many of the greatest minds in the world and found an unprecedented academy,” Sol said.

  “Until we came along and took the Ember,” Nexin said.

  “Until your ancestors did,” Sol clarified.

  “Yeah, I know. We didn’t do this. I’m not trying to shoulder the blame for what happened before I was born, but seeing these other places is so different from reading or thinking about them. When we were back in Pycrin, it was easier to push the responsibility of the wars off on the old Pycrin. Or the Church. Now that we’re here…”

  “It’s more real,” Sol said, nodding.

  “It is. So, uh, are you going to put the Ember back?” Nexin asked, pointing at what looked like an etched brass—no, electrum—bowl sitting on the top of the shrine.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt your introspection,” Sol said evenly.

  At the comment, Nexin’s mind flashed to memories of the orphanage he’d been discussing with El before they’d left. For some reason, he’d been thinking a lot of the place since they’d talked. Of how a young, lonely Nexin had decided to follow in his parents’ footsteps and become Firestorm. And how his clingy little sister had done the same. Of how they’d played on the hardwood staircase, leaping off and pretending they could fly, and how the white-coated handlers had scolded them for roughhousing.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Wait, what? White coats? Handlers?

  Nexin squeezed his eyes shut to block out his surroundings, and focused on the memory. The faces were still blurry, but… but the adults were definitely wearing long, white coats? He’d always pictured them wearing sweaters with elbow patches and scratchy wool. Was he getting mixed up? Was…?

  “Nexin?” Sol’s voice cut through the haze, and Nexin opened his eyes. “You okay?”

  “I think so. Just some of that introspection you were talking about. Old memories popping up and… not being exactly how I remembered them,” Nexin said. “Sorry, nothing for you to worry about. The Ember?” he asked to put them back on track.

  Sol eyed him for a few seconds longer, then turned back to the shrine and slipped the pack off his back. A quick unzip, and he pulled the still-burning Ember from within.

  The orange flames at the end of what amounted to little more than a stick seemed to push back the lingering fog around them, but there was no pull on Nexin’s Spark. No desire. No rush of the need to act. The Ember continued so sleep, and once it was back in its shrine, that would be one less piece of the Pyre they’d need to worry about. For now.

  “One down, many more to go.” Sol stepped forward and placed the Ember within the electrum bowl. Small sparks slid from the flames into the bowl’s etched lines, tracing a script in a language Nexin didn’t recognize. It only took a few seconds for the whole inscription to light up, flashing like when El flared her wings, and then slowly fading until just a smoldering glow remained. “It is done. A century of peace, at the minimum.”

  “More if we can get the different countries to work together and make sure another war-hungry nation like Balacin doesn’t emerge,” Nexin said.

  “I’d say we’re off to a good start,” Sol said.

  “We’d be doing even better if we could find some of the Vestish people and their travel magic. They’d be able to connect the cities with trade routes to help rebuild,” Nexin said.

  “Then perhaps it’s best we get back to looking? Like you said, we have almost the full week until your sister comes looking for us. We might be able to find some clues,” Sol said.

  “Yeah. First, though…” Nexin moved up beside Sol, then reached into the metal bowl and wrapped his fingers around the Ember’s stick. His Spark still didn’t react—good—and he lifted the Ember out of the shrine. Well, tried to. Despite not being physically attached anywhere, Nexin couldn’t budge the small torch. Not an inch. It was good and stuck. “Had to make sure.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be insulted you trust me so little,” Sol said, placing a hand to the center of his chest as if it hurt.

  “I was sent along to put you down if you betrayed us,” Nexin reminded him, though he added a smile so the other man knew he wasn’t completely serious.

  “To try and put me down. I may be weaker than I was, but I could still take you,” Sol joked back.

  “You keep saying that. We’ll have to…”

  BOOOOOOOOM, an explosion rocked the city, the fog lighting up with a sudden, billowing orange as the two men spun around to look. Higher and higher the glow rose until it had to be big enough to escape the fog bank entirely. Then the wave of heat followed. It wasn’t a sheer wall of flame, or an eruption that flattened buildings, but more like standing in front of an oven as it opened. The fog shifted with the rise in temperature, new air currents swirling it around like a living thing.

  “What the Blaze was that?” Nexin asked.

  “Let’s find out.” Wings of ice spread from Sol’s back, and he leapt straight up to vanish within the twisting fog.

  Nexin glanced back at the Ember, the mist around it held at bay in a visible sphere, then ignited his own wings and shot skyward. The roiling mist passed in the blink of an eye, and Nexin breached the surface to find Sol hovering nearby. Straight ahead of them, approximately half a mile, a column of smoke rose from the fog. While it had burned off enough for them to find the shrine, it was still thick enough to hide what had happened from their view.

  “Does their travel magic usually explode?” Nexin asked. “Timing seems suspect.”

  “Exploding wouldn’t be a very good way to entice scholars to come to their city,” Sol pointed out. “But, no, it doesn’t.”

  “You know, at some point, you’re going to have to tell me how you know so much about this place. I thought you only came with your storm?” Nexin said, eyes locked on the rising column of smoke.

  “I lived here for a while, as I did in Salid,” Sol answered. “A story for another time, though. It doesn’t look like any more explosions are forthcoming.”

  “Let’s go, then.” Nexin leaned forward and flew towards the source of the explosion. Flames danced in the palm of his left hand—ready to form a weapon if needed—and he could feel the air around Sol growing colder. This could just be some kind of coincidental accident. Then again, the return of the Ember shouldn’t have such a drastic effect on the locals’ magic.

  Which meant the explosion may be connected to what happened to everybody.

  “See anything?” Nexin asked as they got closer.

  “Smoke and fog,” Sol replied. “If I remember correctly, this area had several warehouses for storage of…”

  BOOOOOOOOOM, a second explosion erupted from a mile further away. Building-sized flames clawed their way through the top layer of fog, while rock and rubble shot away like a volcano erupting.

  Nexin watched the large chunks of stone—some as big as he was—crash down into the fog, the resulting impacts both echoing and muted by the layer of mist. “This one’s yours,” he said, flaring his wings and rocketing ahead.

  Stones still fell from the sky as Nexin reached the second explosion, though he ignored them completely, trusting in his flame armor. Like the first explosion, thick smoke was already crawling its way out of the fog, but Nexin didn’t wait to inspect this one, instead diving down into the mist and igniting a sword in his hand.

  The massive orange glow beneath him had already almost completely vanished, replaced instead by multiple specks of light within the fog. Using those smaller fires as a guide, he twisted in the air to land on the cobblestone road, cracks and fragmented stone littering everything he could see. To his right, only wreckage remained of what had obviously been a large building. Two stories—minimum—and so big it took up almost the entire block from what he could see through the thinner fog.

  Another warehouse? Are these some kind of strategic attacks?

  Nexin took a single step in the direction of the fallen building at the same time the rubble shifted. And again, as if something moved underneath. Flames sparked in his right hand to ignite into a matching sword to his left, his gut telling him whatever was under the fallen stone wasn’t something that needed rescuing.

  No, that wasn’t just his gut. There was something building—growing—under there. Like a kettle with no opening beginning to boil. A Spark of some kind, but different than any he’d felt before. Instead of being nestled away and concentrated deep within a person’s core, this one felt… stretched. Pulled in all directions, almost to the point of breaking, and held unbearably taut.

  “What are you?” he whispered, more to himself than anything else.

  Nexin got his answer a second later, a huge block of stone—more a wall, really—getting tossed to the side to crash into the building across the street. The thin fog suddenly swirled like the air was superheated in an instant, and a silhouette stood and took a step forward.

  Heavy plate armor and a huge sword hilt over its shoulder.

  The Stormbearer…?